The Unsolved Riddle
by JannaKalderash
Summary: The Riddler gets a blast from the past when his former childhood sweetheart shows up with dire news. What exactly is going on with her? Read and find out.
1. Chapter 1

17

THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE

BY JANNA KALDERASH

PART ONE:

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? The only things I own are the original characters and the plotline. Everything else belongs to DC Comics, Warner Bros. etc.

Author's Note: This story is set during the 1966 Batman TV series. However, this will not be a campy farce. It is a serious story, with some comedic elements between characters.

Edward Nygma, also known by his alias as The Riddler, slowly opened the door of his lair. It had been a good two years since he had gone to prison for his last crime, and he was glad to be out of Gotham Penitentiary.

The place stunk on many levels, not just physically; he was happy to breathe the relatively fresh air of Gotham City itself.

The lights were on, which they had _not_ been when he'd been put away by the Batman and his wretched pipsqueak sidekick, Robin.

"Hello Ed," came a familiar voice, and he looked over to his right, where the sofa was situated.

Seated on said sofa was a woman in her early thirties, although she looked a good bit older. Her face was drawn and her complexion spoke of having a long illness. Her dark brown hair, usually bouncy and curly, now lay flat against her scalp.

It was the eyes that spoke to him the most; her eyes, normally a clear aquamarine blue, were now faded and dull with sickness and pain.

But, there was no mistaking her voice for anyone else's. He'd known that voice growing up in the meaner section of Gotham as a child; he'd heard her calling his name in passion when they had been horny teenagers together, dreaming of a way out of the hell that was their lives.

"Maggie? Maggie O'Shaunnessy?" he asked incredulously. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, Ed; it's me. It's good to see you. You're looking pretty good."

"I just got out of Gotham Penitentiary, Maggie; it was either work out in the gym or go stir crazy in my cell. I chose to exercise my body, since I solved every puzzle book in their teensy weensy library."

She giggled slightly, leaning against the back of the sofa.

He walked over to her, taking in her appearance in shock. The last time he had seen her had been not long after they both had turned sixteen.

The two of them had made plans to run away and elope, to hell with the adults in their lives, and make a new life for themselves far away from this wretched city.

Fate however, had dealt them both a nasty hand of cards; he had been turned in to the police by his own father for taking part in a shoplifting spree with some of his friends.

Ed had been put in juvenile detention and hadn't gotten out until two years later. He had looked for Maggie, but she had disappeared.

"What happened Maggie? Where did you go?"

"My parents sent me to St. Mary's School for Wayward Girls." She replied quietly.

Ed's face blanched at that revelation. The only girls who were sent to that place were those that had gotten in the family way, and their families were too ashamed to admit it.

The babies had been adopted out at birth, and the girls themselves were cut loose after two years doing hard labor behind the school's walls.

It had been one of Gotham's biggest scandals in years, for as it turned out, most of the girls had been the victims of rape, either by a family friend, or a family member. A few of the girls had died in very strange circumstances, and their babies with them.

"What happened to the baby," he asked, almost too afraid to hear the answer.

"He was adopted out by the sisters. I named him Ed, but knowing how adoption works, his new parents probably changed his name. My uncle, the Bishop made sure that I would never find him. I was kept there for four hellish years, Ed. I nearly lost my mind." Her voice had trailed off into a mere whisper, and he sat beside her to offer her comfort.

"Do you need anything, Maggie? I can see that you're ill. Do you need a doctor? I can pay for it."

"I've seen a doctor, Ed. I don't have long left to live. Evidently, there's a tumor in my head that's killing me."

Tears came to his eyes for the first time in a long time. To lose Maggie to something as horrid as brain cancer was horrible; especially as he had just found her again.

"You're getting a second opinion, Maggie." He declared firmly, "Most doctors are full of crap, and you know it."

"I can't afford it, Ed." She whispered, looking exhausted.

"I can. I've got enough money stashed away to make sure you get the proper treatment. Tomorrow, I'm taking you to the Gotham Cancer Research Institute; no arguments. Do you have a place to stay?"

She shook her head in the negative, too tired to speak.

"Okay, you can stay here with me. It's not much, but it's got running water, electricity, and my housekeeper stocked up on food when I told her I was getting out. Come on now, you can have the other bedroom."

Showing great care for her depleted condition, he led her to the other bedroom (the one that Molly had occupied so long ago, but no other), and made sure that she was comfortable before going out into the main area.

Since it was still fairly early in the day, he called the Institute, and made an appointment with one of the better known specialists in brain cancer.

The doctors in the Institute were well known in their fields, and had a reputation for being more concerned with their patient's well being, instead of lining their pockets.

The next morning, Ed was the first one out of bed. He checked in on Maggie, only to find that she was fast asleep. There was an assortment of pill bottles by her bedside, and out of curiosity, he checked out the labels.

Some of them were vitamin supplements, but the biggest bottle was for a very strong pain killer. Evidently, the tumor was causing migraines of great intensity, difficulty sleeping, nausea, and loss of appetite.

A small silver case yielded a couple of marijuana joints, and Ed smiled in genuine humor. While not a user himself, he knew that pot was often used by cancer patients to deal with nausea and the accompanying loss of appetite.

He looked at her face in the weak morning light, his own expression pensive.

Maggie had once been a very cute teenager with curly brown hair, big blue eyes, and a sweet curvy figure that had driven him wild as a boy.

Now, due to the ravages of the diseased tissue in her brain, she was thin to the point of being gaunt, and her once rosy complexion reminded him of a wax mannequin.

Ed gently stroked her cheek with the back of his left hand; he almost couldn't believe that this delicate shell of a woman had once been known as 'Mighty Mouth Maggie'.

As a child, and even as a teenager, she had been known to be a very opinionated, pushy, wisecracking pain in the butt. Naturally, he had adored her.

'Don't worry, my Maggie.' He thought, 'I'll make sure you have the best treatment in Gotham City.'

He left her side and went to the kitchen to make breakfast; eggs and corned beef hash for himself, tea and buttered toast for her.

Once the food was ready, he gently woke Maggie from her deep sleep, and served her the tea and toast in bed, in spite of her protests.

"Hush now, Maggie darling. Let me take care of you. I've been a selfish son of a bitch for a long time; it will do me good to look out for someone other than myself."

"Looking to score brownie points with the Almighty, Ed?" she teased, sipping at her tea and nibbling on her toast.

Ed simply snickered, "Like the Almighty would even want me around, my darling. I know perfectly well that I'm going to Hell when I die, so I may as well enjoy my life as it is."

"Bullshit Ed," she stated baldly, "I know you. You've never killed anyone in all of your crazy schemes, in spite of trying very hard to do so. Especially that nutcase with the bat motif; he's got problems."

He giggled at that, for it was true; in spite of Batman stating that nearly everyone in his Rogue's Gallery was clearly insane, he was the least sane of anyone in Gotham!

"Ah, Maggie; how I've missed that mouth of yours." He teased, grinning at her and she smiled at him.

"Pssht! Cheap flattery will get you nowhere with me Edward Anthony Nashton."

'Oh crap! She called me by my _real name_!' he thought. The only time Maggie ever did that was when things were really going badly.

"I've made an appointment at the institute; I've got a friend on staff who helped out. You just stay here and rest up a bit. Would you like a book or two?"

"That would be nice, Ed."

He handed her one of the books that Molly had left behind by an up and coming science fiction writer, and went to take care of a few chores.

His contact at the hospital had immediately given him the name of Jason Waters, one of the best oncologists on the East Coast. However, due to a heavy schedule, he could only see Maggie that next Friday. Ed had agreed to it, and confirmed the appointment with the doctor's receptionist.

He kept himself busy by doing laundry, and generally straightening the place up. His housekeeper was a good woman and dedicated to her job, but sometimes she neglected the little things.

He peeked in on Maggie after a while and found that she had conked out some three pages into the book.

Riddler gently eased it out of her hands, and tucked the blankets around her shoulders. If it hadn't been for his wretched, abusive father ratting on him, he and Maggie could have escaped from Gotham years ago, and made their lives someplace else.

He cursed the dead man fervently, for there had been no love lost between father and son. John Nashton had seen Ed as an unwanted reminder of a forced marriage, and Ed had seen the older man as an abusive alcoholic who blamed everyone but himself for the misfortunes in his life.

No one had held a gun to his head as he bedded his then teenaged wife to be. John had seen the opportunity to bag a pretty eighteen year old Irish girl of a good family, and had run with it.

Unfortunately, the conception of their only child had necessitated that he marry her, dumping his rich fiancé in the process. Maryann had wasted away after the birth of her child, due to hopelessness and anguish.

Her parents had cut her out of their lives, and out of their wills.

While not wealthy, her parents had more than enough money to set up a nice fat trust fund for her; which she would have gotten after the age of twenty one.

Once she had gotten pregnant and been forced to marry John Nashton, her parents had emptied the trust fund, and put the money into the trust fund of their son, Maryann's younger brother, Arthur Littleton.

Maryann had died young, at the tender age of twenty three, leaving behind a grieving little boy, and a raging widower.

He sank into a worn, stuffed armchair and cried for the first time in more than a decade.

There had been so much that had been lost; to his mother, himself, Maggie, and the son that they had been robbed of.

He only hoped that he could find the boy while Maggie was still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

24

THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE

By Janna Kalderash

The Riddler sat in the waiting room of Gotham City Hospital, smoking a cigarette. He'd been waiting there anxiously, ever since his former girlfriend, Maggie had been wheeled into surgery to deal with a brain tumor that was slowly killing her.

The tumor had been in a place that was tricky to pinpoint, and the doctor in question, Jason had been desperate enough to contact Clark Kent over in Metropolis so that he could get Superman in on the case.

Thanks to the Kryptonian's x-ray vision, he had managed to pinpoint the exact location of the tumor, and was now in the operating room with the doctor.

The plan was for Jason to do the necessary cutting in order to expose the tumor, and then Superman would burn it out with his heat vision, right down to the roots.

Normally speaking, surgery of this kind was dicey as all Hell without the aid of Superman. Even with his help, there was no guarantee that Maggie would have a good recovery.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he was going over the Holy Rosary for the nineteenth repetition. He had never been particularly religious before, and he certainly hadn't been after he'd started a life of crime.

Right now, though, he was fervently praying for Maggie to pull through the surgery.

Even after all of the time that had passed, and all of the crap that had gone down for the two of them, he found that he was still in love with Maggie.

Riddler stubbed out the remains of the cigarette and leaned back in the hard plastic chair, his spine cracking in protest.

'First thing I'm going to do after I take Maggie home is give the hospital money for new chairs,' he thought, 'These are murder on the spine and pelvic bone. I wonder why more people don't complain.'

He yawned and stretched out his slender limbs, trying to ease out the worst of the cricks in his bones. Even though he was only thirty two years of age, sometimes he felt like he was twice that age.

Of course, considering the kind of life he had led ever since he'd been eighteen, it was a wonder that he was still alive, much less in good condition.

A nurse came walking by, and offered him a cup of coffee, which he refused. As hyper as he already was, coffee was a very bad idea. If he were to drink any he'd be climbing the walls in less than twenty minutes.

Not to mention running for the bathroom ten minutes after that.

"Why don't you take a break?" the nurse asked kindly, "I'll make sure to send someone after you if there's any news. Go get something to eat; you're too thin."

"I've _always_ been thin," he groused lightly, "but thank you anyway. I think I'll take a walk."

Ed wandered down to the maternity area, and peeked into the nursery, looking at all of the newborns.

He smiled in spite of his current mood; all these tiny little people had their whole lives in front of them. Babyhood, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, marriage, kids of their own; the list kind of boggled the mind.

The babies were all of different colors and races; Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, and even one Native American kid in the corner. Their faces were all scrunched up in the manner of all newborns, and all their eyes were closed in sleep.

One of the fathers came over, grinning like a loon.

"Have any of your own? Those three in the incubators are mine. See? The two little girls screaming for whatever it is they want, and the little boy snoring away?"

Ed looked over at the incubators in question and sure enough, the two little girls were screaming like the banshees that his paternal grandmother had often told him about when he was little. The little boy, with a tuft of black hair, was snoozing soundly in his incubator; completely unperturbed by all the noise.

"You had three? I only have one child, and he's sixteen years old."

The younger man, who couldn't have been more than twenty-two or so, said "Sixteen? How old were you?"

"About the same age," Ed answered, "I was young, stupid and horny. Nature took its course, and nine months later, there he was."

"My name's Jack, pleased to meet you." He said offering his hand for Ed to shake.

Ed did so, and said, "How are you going to manage three kids all at once?"

"I have a BIG family," Jack answered, "I'm smack in the middle of nine kids, and the ONLY boy in the batch."

"Oh man, you poor guy; surrounded by all that estrogen. How'd you and your dad manage?"

"With difficulty," Jack snarked, "I have eight sisters; four in front of me, four in back, and all of them were looking to kill me at one point."

Ed snickered, "I've been there before. Personally, I think that _all_ women want to bump off all of us clueless dumb clucks, take over the world, and run it the way they want."

Jack grinned at him, "I _know_ that already. Growing up with my mom, her five sisters, my _eight_ sisters, plus more female cousins than I can shake the proverbial stick at taught me that at a young age. What are you in here for?"

Ed paused for a moment, "My girlfriend is in surgery for a brain tumor. It's in such a tricky place they had to call in outside help for it."

"Whoa! You poor dude! You must be going nuts worrying about her. I know that if it were my wife, I'd be drinking myself into an early grave."

"With me its cigarettes," Ed replied, "I must have wiped out two packs upstairs in the waiting room. I thought I had broken the habit before now. Shows what stress does to a person."

"I'm about to hit the deli across the street. I was warned not to eat here in the hospital cafeteria if I could help it. Someone told me that the food here should not be taken internally."

Ed snickered; considering all the times _he'd_ been in the hospital, he'd learned to pay the nurses to smuggle him something from that same deli.

"I'll join you. I haven't eaten since I checked her in this morning. That was about seven hours ago."

The two men went to the popular deli across the street. It was run by an elderly Jewish couple who had been around when Ed was a skinny teenager, and he had always been fond of them. He'd grown to like certain Jewish dishes more so than Irish ones as a boy, and his tastes hadn't changed much in the intervening years.

Ed chose the chicken soup, as well as a pastrami sandwich and a cup of strong tea. Jack ordered the mac and cheese, along with some of the fried chicken and a cup of coffee.

While not large, there were a few seats available, which they took so they could eat in comfort.

As they ate, the two of them spoke companionably for a while. Ed didn't tell Jack who he really was, although if the other man didn't know, he must have been living underneath a rock for the past few years.

Jack, for his part, didn't mention what he knew of Ed's past. He knew perfectly well about Ed's life as The Riddler, but was far too polite to bring up such a touchy subject.

After they had finished their lunch, the two men went back to the hospital; Ed went to the chapel, and Jack returned to the maternity ward to stare googly eyed at his kids some more.

Oddly enough, the wooden pews in the chapel were a lot more comforting to Ed's posterior and spine than the chairs in the waiting room.

After duly crossing himself, he sat in the pew and pulled out the one material object he had of his grandmother's, that his father hadn't been able to pawn off, all thanks to Ed's godmother, Angelica.

It was mostly due to her that Ed wasn't even more screwed up in the head than he already was. After his mother's death, she had filled the void that had been left behind, and had practically raised Ed herself, along with her other three rambunctious youngsters.

The object in question was an antique rosary, made from a combination of topaz and white quartz, on a gold chain, with a matching gold crucifix.

Solemnly, Ed began to chant the Holy Rosary the way he'd been taught by his paternal grandmother, Rosemary Nashton. She had inherited the rosary from her own grandmother, who had emigrated from County Clare Ireland, back during the days of the Potato Famine.

She had taught her only grandchild to chant it in a rather obscure dialect of Irish Gaelic, which very few, if any people spoke any more, if at all.

Nanna Rosie had died when he was around twelve years of age, at the age of ninety-seven, gleefully holding court in her room at the nursing home, smoking a cigarette, and cussing out her only child for the way he treated his son.

As he chanted, memories of his time with her, and with Angelica's family came back to him.

Both of them had been very strong women, and had always taught their children to do their best.

It was a lesson that John Nashton had failed to learn, much to his mother's heartbreak.

Nanna had always protected Ed fiercely; if John beat him for whatever reason, she would go after _him_, and whack the snot out of him with her heavy mahogany cane. Finally, John had taken refuge in simply verbally abusing his son.

Of course, Angelica was not one to tolerate _that_ from any man, no matter if it was the child in question was hers or not. She was the type to give better than she got, and John Nashton learned to his detriment that engaging her ire was _not_ a good idea.

To this day, Angelica still treated Ed as if he were one of her own. Whenever he left Gotham to lay low, or plot a new scheme, he would usually drop by her place. He was always welcomed with loads of affection from her, her brood of five children, and whatever relatives of hers had decided to drop in.

His fingers manipulated the beads automatically, as he quietly spoke the words that Nanna had gently tutored him in.

There were many things known about Edward Nashton/Nygma, but there were a great many that weren't.

For one thing, he could speak, read, write, and think in more than one language; very fluently as a matter of fact.

He could speak Spanish, French, Greek, Italian and Yiddish like a native, without any trace of an American accent, unlike a great many people who learned the language in question out of a book.

Growing up on the streets, he had met a great many people, from all walks of life, and if he didn't know the language, he would learn it out of curiosity.

The Rabbi over at the Gotham City Synagogue was an old friend of his, and an excellent chess player. He had taught Ed the Yiddish language, and was even teaching him Hebrew, both Ancient and Modern.

"Riddler?" came a very familiar and unwelcome voice from the entrance to the chapel, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Ed put away his rosary and turned to face the one who had spoken. Naturally, it was Robin the Boy Wonder, and as usual, the kid's lack of tact irked him to no end.

"I'm here praying for someone, little boy." Ed replied testily, "Where's your mentor?"

"He's down in the children's ward; the terminal section. The Commissioner forwarded a letter to him that there was a little girl with advanced leukemia that wanted to see us before she died. He's with her now. I don't think she has long left either. She was fading away as I left the room; she didn't seem to mind though. I don't think she knew I was there, not really; she was so focused on Batman."

Ed cursed mildly, "That sucks. Little girls belong with their parents, having their friends over to play Barbie; gossiping about mean teachers, and gross boys; all that kind of stuff."

Robin simply shrugged. There wasn't much he could say in answer to that. He agreed with the older man's statement, but he wasn't about to let _him_ know that. They were enemies, after all.

Over the boy's shoulder, Ed recognized Superman walking down the hall in a set of scrubs. The alien was grinning from ear to ear, so the news had to be good.

"How did it go? Why did it take so long? Is Maggie all right?"

"Calm down, Ed." The big Kryptonian said. "The operation was a little tricky, but we got the entire tumor out.

Unfortunately, there was also an aneurysm to deal with, but I managed to take care of the blockage in the artery with a tiny shot of heat vision. That's what took so long.

Not only was the tumor bigger than expected, it also went pretty deep; I got all of it though. As for Maggie, the doctor says she's going to be just fine. She's in an induced coma, to deal with the swelling, but the doctor says that she'll come out of that in about three or four days. Of course, her recovery is going to take a lot longer than that."

"Sweet Jesus," Ed breathed softly, "Any idea on how long it will take for her to recover?"

"The doctor will give you all of those particulars, Ed." Superman said with a smile. "Here he comes now."

Robin respectfully removed himself from earshot, knowing that the Riddler would want privacy for a moment like this.

As he headed to the stairs for the children's terminal ward, Robin heard someone sobbing in sheer relief and It took all of his willpower not to turn and see who it was; he did look over at Superman, who had performed one of his quick changes and was now back in his familiar blue and red outfit.

"Come on, kiddo" he said quietly. "Let's leave him alone for a while. He wouldn't appreciate our company for this."

Together the two heroes went to the terminal ward, where they found Batman, sitting in a chair, facing an empty hospital bed.

His eyes were red from crying, and he looked up as the two of them approached.

"She's gone;" he half sobbed, "A tiny little girl of six is gone. I held her hand, and told her about some of my adventures, and she just….went."

"That's terrible!" Robin said, "How's her mom taking it?"

"Badly," his mentor replied, "That little girl was her baby, and she was very much loved by the family. Her mother expressed her gratitude to me, saying that at least her baby's last moments were happy ones."

"Be satisfied with that Batman," Superman said, "Not even we heroes can fight off the Grim Reaper. Right now she's in Heaven, sitting on Rao's knee, listening to one of his Parables."

"Come on Batman, let's go home." Robin stated, "There's nothing else for us to do here, is there?"

"No, I suppose you're right, chum. Let's get back to the Batcave, and I'll make arrangements for a fat donation to the Cancer Research Institute. Maybe they'll be able to come up with something to stop this from happening to little children."

As the two drove home in the Batmobile, Robin relayed what had happened in the other ward.

"I knew that if I turned to look he'd probably go ballistic and kill me, so I didn't. I wouldn't wish that kind of an illness on anybody, not even him, annoying as he is."

Batman sighed and kept his eyes on the road, "It's a difficult thing, Robin; being that worried over someone. There've been times when you were hurt by someone or other, and I always swore I'd get you out of that costume if you pulled through it. It's funny how that never worked out."

"I think it's too late for me at this point," the teenager said solemnly. "If I was still eight years old, and easier to influence, it might have worked. You're just lucky that Commissioner Gordon never called CPS on you for all of the stuff I went through back then."

'_Lucky indeed,'_ Batman thought, _'if Commissioner Gordon had been a younger man he definitely would have called CPS, and had Robin removed from my custody. As well as discovered my secret identity; not the most pleasant of thoughts.'_

When they got back to the Batcave, and into their civilian identities, the first thing that Bruce did was donate four hundred thousand dollars to the Institute for research into children's leukemia, brain tumors and other related diseases.

Dick went to bed, thoroughly emotionally wrung out from the day in question.

First seeing a dying little girl, meeting Riddler in the chapel; and then seeing his mentor and de facto father break down in such a manner.

It made him wonder if it was really worth it to keep running around in tights, trying to get rid of supervillains, etc.


	3. Chapter 3

52

THE UNSOLVED RIDDLE

PART III

By Janna Kalderash

Author's Note: There's going to be a bit of a time jump in the beginning of the chapter; please just bear with me, I promise that it'll be good.

Edward Nashton stood in front of the Plexiglas window of the maternity ward, grinning like an idiot. He was currently looking at his newborn daughter who was currently screaming her little head off for whatever reason.

"Ed, she's beautiful," a voice purred next to him and he turned to his right to see Selina Kyle, aka Catwoman standing beside him in very fashionable street clothing.

"Isn't she though? She looks like my Nanna did when she was young. I've heard of dominant genes, but this is a bit much." He responded, not at all fazed by the tiny baby's resemblance to his long deceased grandmother.

He turned his attention once again to the yowling mite, who was now being seen to by the nurse in charge. Judging by the woman's quick recoil, he figured it had to be his daughter's diaper that set her off.

Once the baby was placed on the changing table, his suspicions were confirmed. Huh…he hadn't thought there was _that_ much poop in her system to make such a mess, but he was no real judge of babies, so he had no comparison.

"What's her name going to be, Ed?" she asked, leaning against the glass partition.

"Rosemary Selina Nashton." He declared firmly, and she turned to look at him in surprise.

True, they had once upon a time, had a very intense fling, in the long ago days of their early twenties, but it had died out after they had found they simply couldn't live together. He with his obsessive compulsive tendencies, and she with her cats; it was a fling doomed to failure from the beginning.

Still, they were good friends, even after she had fixated on Batman for whatever reason, moved on from him and married Wildcat, a now retired hero, turned boxing coach. Their own son, Jeff, was six months older than his Rosemary, and was a very laid back individual.

"Thank you, Ed. That's very sweet of you."

"Actually, Maggie suggested it; she's always liked you. And the fact that you were the one that threw the baby shower helped a great deal."

"What did you two get from the Joker? He's never said what the gift was."

Ed's face darkened a little, "That crazy clown sent a zombielike Raggedy Ann doll with no eyes. Maggie was so pissed at him; she wanted to cut his balls off. If she hadn't been eight months pregnant at the time, I might have let her."

"What did you do to him?" Selina asked. She'd never gotten a straight answer from the Joker; all he did was get a twitch in his left eyebrow when asked, and then he'd rapidly change the subject.

"I didn't do anything to him. I simply told my godmother about what he did, and she said she would take care of it. Evidently, she did. And she won't tell me what, because she wants me to maintain 'plausible deniability', in this particular case. However, knowing Ma, she or her sons did something truly nasty."

Selina decided to drop the subject, for the nurse was beckoning Ed into the nursery so he could hold his daughter in person. She patted him on the shoulder, wished him luck and left the maternity ward.

As she turned to walk to the elevator, she saw him, now with a hospital gown on over his suit, with the baby in his arms. Although she couldn't hear him through the glass, she imagined that he was cooing to her.

Once she got on the elevator, she collapsed into giggles at the thought of the former criminal, known as The Riddler, turned into a mound of gelatinous goo by a newborn baby.

As for Ed, he wasn't minding a bit. The moment that Maggie had announced her pregnancy, not four months after their honeymoon in Mexico, he had known that his life was going to change irrevocably.

He smiled down at his precious little girl, his grey eyes misting over with happy tears. Never in all his life had he thought he would one day be in this position; happily married, with a baby girl.

Someone knocked on the window of the nursery to get his attention and Ed looked up into the face of his son, Michael O'Brien, who was grinning like a fool, and clutching a huge teddy bear in his arms.

"Hey Da!" the young man said, slightly muffled through the glass. "I brought something for the rugrat!"

"Don't call your sister a rugrat, snotwad." Ed replied evenly, not really angry at his son. "Remember that once upon a time you were also this little."

Michael scowled at his father a bit, but his frown faded when Ed held up little Rosemary for him to get a good look. Then, the slightly goofy smile returned.

"She's beautiful, Da. She looks just like that picture of your Nanna Rosemary that you showed me, right down to the nose."

"She is a beauty at that, Michael my boy. She is at that." Ed kissed his daughter on the forehead, and handed her back to the nurse for a bottle.

Right now, Maggie was conked out in the Recovery Room, and wouldn't be able to nurse until she woke up.

Ed got rid of the hospital gown, and joined his firstborn outside the nursery. He looked over the bear, and saw that it was wearing a miniature green suit with a question mark motif and a green bowler hat with a question mark on it.

"Smartass," was all he had to say to Michael, who snickered at his father's expression.

Together the two of them left the hospital. Visiting hours were over, and Ed was about ready to drop from exhaustion. He had been in the delivery room with Maggie for a good two hours, gently encouraging her throughout the labor. She had been cussing up a storm, practically turning the air blue with her foul language.

The doctor on call, Dr. Leslie Thompkins had simply smiled behind her mask, and ignored the cursing. She had heard far worst in her career as a doctor; mostly from a private patient who was also a millionaire with a tragic past.

Michael drove his father back to the large condo that Ed had bought Maggie as a wedding present. Throughout his long criminal career, Ed had squirreled away a good amount of money; enough to buy a four bedroom, three bathroom condo.

It was tastefully furnished in a somewhat eclectic style; most of the living room furniture was leftover from his days as the Riddler, but with new slipcovers and cushions. There was a huge green afghan covering the back of it, patiently crocheted by Maggie.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around that much Da, but since I finished my finals, I can be around more for you and Ma."

"Don't worry about us, Mikey. Your mother and I can take care of things. I might not have much experience in taking care of newborns, but it can't be that hard."

Michael stopped and looked over at his father in surprise.

"You _do_ know that you just jinxed yourself, don't you?"

Ed thought for a minute, and then said "CRAP!" in an exasperated tone. "I can't believe I tempted Fate like that. I'm usually more careful."

"You're also pooped out from helping Ma with the delivery. It's understandable and forgivable. Why don't you go to bed, while I get myself something to eat?"

Now feeling very sleepy, Ed shuffled off to the bedroom, where he stripped out of his clothes, managed to get into his pajamas without too much fuss, and went straight to sleep.

The next morning, Ed woke up to find Michael already at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper, looking disgustingly chipper.

Ed, who as a rule, was never alive until he'd had at least two cups of coffee in his system, simply poured himself a cup of black coffee, adding a generous amount of sugar and milk before slumping at the table and slowly drinking it.

"There's toast, butter and jam in front of you, Da." Michael said, smiling at his usually dapper parent, who was now a rumpled mess with a bad case of bedhead.

The only he answer he got was a semi-sleepy grunt, after which he passed over the toast, butter and jam to Ed. Still half asleep, Ed managed to slather butter and jam on the toast, and get it into his system, without getting any of it on his pajamas or robe.

Michael continued to eat his cold cereal, and read the funnies. He had never been much for sports, much like his father, and the regular news bored him.

Tax hikes by the mayor; the Joker had been caught by Batman, _again!_ Selina Kyle was hawking a new perfume that she had cooked up; the usual stuff.

"The Joker really must be getting old if he's still pulling the same old schtick." Michael said conversationally.

"The Joker was _born_ old," Ed managed to get out, filling his cup for a second time, now looking more aware of his surroundings. "He was an old man when I was a kid; he's at least twenty years older than I am. It's just the whiteface makeup and green wig that hide his age. His hair went white before he was fifty."

Michael snorted in laughter; there were times when he thought that Ed had missed his calling in life. He was ten times funnier than the Joker even on an off day.

"What do you hear from your Uncle Thomas?" Ed asked.

"The Holy See's giving him fits as usual. He's a very proactive sort of person, and wants to correct all of the wrongs that have been done by the Church in the last few decades."

"Hopefully they won't kill him for it," Ed grumbled, "Your uncle is a good man, but he's in a crap position and he knows it. He only has as much power as the Cardinal College wants him to have."

Michael smirked, "That's what he's letting them think, Da. You forget that Uncle Thomas was a soldier before he became a priest; he's used to taking on battles against foes with superior odds. Besides, he's got friends in other places that will make sure he stays alive."

Ed grinned at that; Uncle Thomas or Pope Julius III certainly _did_ have a lot of friends that were invested in keeping him alive while he did his housecleaning of the Church.

While Ed didn't still didn't have a great deal of respect for the Church itself, he _did_ have a lot for Uncle Thomas. The man was as tough as an old Army boot, and didn't suffer fools at all, much less gladly.

Ed would be eternally grateful to him because he had been the one to raise Michael after the death of his adopted parents some years back.

As he drank his coffee, Ed's thoughts wandered back to the day that he had actually met Uncle Thomas. It had certainly been a Christmas to remember, that was for damned sure.

_Flashback:_

_Maggie had recovered from her brain surgery, and was as beautiful as ever. She had managed to swing a job with the Gotham City Opera Company, working on the costumes, which required a great deal of maintenance due to all of the manhandling they got from the dressers, the actors and stagehands._

_One of the background singers had heard Maggie singing as she worked on one of the fantastically decorated ball gowns, and had sneakily informed the stage manager, who had himself snuck to the costume section to hear for himself._

_The man had nearly fainted from shock when he heard that Maggie had never had a lick of formal schooling, but had been forced to sing in the choir at the school she had been sent to. The nuns there had been bitches of the first order, and had used the girl's singing to line their pockets by making them perform at concerts under threat of excommunication._

_After swearing for a good twenty minutes in Italian, the stage manager had insisted that she audition. Maggie had flatly refused, due to massive stage fright, memories of being on stage with other frightened girls in her mind._

_In the end, she had called Ed, and begged him to come down and talk to the stage manager. _

_Once Ed heard the whole story, he had told Maggie that the best way to get even with all of the bitches that had ruined her life was to make a success of it by doing the one thing they would never expect. Get on a stage and sing._

_With fire in her eyes, Maggie had double dog dared him to get on stage with her and sing as well. She knew that he could sing, and sing well; he just didn't do it in public._

_With practically the entire company watching the argument between the two lovers, and knowing that his reputation would take a hit from his refusal, Ed had agreed._

_The two of them had sung in turn, glaring at each other, while the other members giggled at the display._

_One rather robust woman had remarked to a friend of hers "If they aren't married yet, they're going to be. And oh what a marriage it will be! They will never be bored with each other," she had said in perfect Italian._

"_Thank you for that signora," Ed had remarked in the same language, with no trace of an American accent, a slight smirk on his face appearing when she blushed at having been caught._

_From then on, it was a done deal. Both Ed and Maggie were heard by the voice master who classified them as a light baritone and a light soprano; then both were shanghaied into getting voice training._

_However, news of their employment by the GCOC wouldn't become public knowledge until the big Christmas concert that year. _

_The tattle on the grapevine was that the Pope was coming to town for it, by special invitation of the Governor of the State._

_Ed had put the word out on the underground grapevine that going after the Pope for ransom or anything similarly stupid was a great big fat NO-NO! And reminded those members of the criminal community who were Catholic that it would be a sure fire ticket to the lowest levels of Hell._

_The Joker had protested, seeing the opportunity for a fantastic joke, but his older sister, Maria, a woman who didn't put up with any of his crap, had put her foot down, and smacked him upside the head for even thinking such a thing._

_She had also told him that if he were to do it, she'd make sure that not one Latin soul food establishment in the entire city would let him through the door, and neither would the rest of their siblings, as well assorted nieces, nephews and cousins. _

_Since the Joker hated to cook for himself, and would only eat something that was cooked by his family, namely his sister, he was faced with either learning to cook for himself, or starvation._

_He had capitulated to his sister's demands, and that had been the end of it._

_The concert had sold out within minutes once the news of the Pope's attendance got out, and Maggie had been a nervous wreck for a couple of days until Ed had kissed her silly in the sewing room; that had put a stop to her nerves._

_However, they had come back once she had determined that she had absolutely nothing to wear for the concert itself, and neither did Ed._

_With the help of a few of the background singers who sewed their own clothes, Maggie was quickly fitted for a gorgeous gown that she refused to let Ed see before the performance. _

_Knowing that she was just going to be stubborn about it, Ed had gone to a tailor shop and gotten fitted for a black tuxedo. The only concession to his former career had been the bright green cummerbund that he'd found in the accessories bin, along with the matching clip on bow tie._

_However, what none of them knew was of the very special connection that Ed and Maggie had with said Pope._

_Many years before, when they were both in their early twenties, their son Michael O'Brien, had gone to Italy with is adopted parents, for a vacation. His adopted father's brother, Thomas O'Brien, had been an arch-bishop then, and although in very late middle age, had the vigor of a man half that._

_Unfortunately, young Michael's parents had died in a car accident, leaving him a bereaved orphan in a foreign country where he didn't speak the language._

_Since the government of Italy hadn't wanted to be bothered with repatriating him to America, and the American government was of the attitude that the child was now the problem of the Italian one, Thomas O'Brien had stepped up to the plate, and taken the boy into his household._

_Of course, he had gone through his younger brother's papers, and discovered Michael's origins, as well as what had gone on at the School for Wayward Girls where he'd been born._

_It hadn't been difficult for him to get a hold of the birth certificate which named the parents of his nephew, as well as their own birth certificates._

_Further investigation had brought to light the horrendous practices at the School, and with a little nudge from a friend of his who was the Cardinal for Gotham City, things moved very quickly._

_First, the school itself was the setting of a coup des' tat by the girls there. A couple of years before, someone had managed to smuggle in some cherry bombs, and flushed them down all the toilets at once, causing a massive flood._

_While the nuns ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, the file room was rifled for information, and Maggie had taken several pertinent files, and run for her life._

_She had mailed the whole kit and caboodle straight to the Gotham City Gazette, as well as mimeograph copies to the local District Attorney._

_The scandal that had hit had brought to light just about every dirty deed that had been thought buried by Bishop O'Shaughnessy. _

_The girls had all been taken in by CPS, and put into intensive therapy, as well as trained for living outside of the school, along with the babies that they'd borne._

_The Bishop's former paramours, most of whom had been killed on his orders, along with their children, where exhumed from the pauper's graves they'd been buried in, and given proper funerals._

_Unfortunately, due to certain practices by the Church at the time, the Bishop and those nuns who were caught managed to claim sanctuary with Mother Church, and avoided arrest._

_However, that hadn't been the end of it. Not by a long shot._

_Those nuns that had taken part in the systematic abuse had all been put into a very strict cloister that practiced mandatory silence, got up every day at 4:30 on the nose, no matter how late a person went to bed, and had a very simple vegetarian diet plan._

_Unused to these kinds of conditions, some of the nuns had committed the ultimate sin of suicide and were cremated, their ashes scattered and their names used as a warning for those of the flock that thought it would be an easy thing to flout their vows to God and live an easy life._

_The Bishop had been left alone for a couple of years, although he'd been sequestered at a monastery, also with a mandatory silence rule._

_Some three years after that, Thomas became the first Irish-American to become Pope, and he had chosen the name Julius III, after the Pope that had been in a rather contentious relationship with Michelangelo Buonorotti centuries before._

_Once he'd had the power of the Papal crown behind him, Thomas had REALLY gone to work. _

_First off, he had tendered a special invitation to Bishop O'Shaughnessy to come to Italy, to live out the rest of his years in the warmth of the Italian sun in a nice little cottage in the countryside._

_The Bishop, having forgotten about the Papal Hit Squad that answered ONLY to the Pope, took the invitation and ran with it._

_He'd been greeted once he got off the plane, driven to a special audience with Julius III, and was greeted by someone he'd thought never to see again._

_A thirteen year old Michael O'Brien, his niece's only son, had greeted him with cold grey eyes, and said, "Welcome to Italy, **uncle**." After which he'd simply walked away from the wretched old man._

_His audience with Julius hadn't gone any better; all of his crimes had been laid before him, in black and white, with no escape._

_O'Shaughnessy had been summarily excommunicated, and stripped of all his rank. All of the considerable wealth he had amassed in his life had been seized by the Holy See, and he had been sent out of the room in disgrace._

_Several days afterward, his body had been found in the surf, evidently drowned while swimming out too far into the Mediterranean Sea._

_What no one knew was that he had been deathly afraid of water throughout his life, and had never learned to swim. But, since it was never brought up, no one thought anything different._

_That had all taken place three years ago. Right now, Michael O'Brien was sixteen years of age, and a very handsome lad to look upon. With pale eyes, strong brows, curly dark brown hair, and a respectable height of 5'10", many a young girl of his acquaintance were all aflutter over him._

_Not that this affected him in the least; for he had been raised to be a gentleman by his uncle, as well as his uncle's staff, and the first thing he'd been told during the onset of puberty was, "Be very careful who you make the mother of your child."_

_Thus, Michael was right now without a girlfriend, although he had many friends that were girls, which wasn't the same thing._

_Pope Julius III had informed his nephew of their trip to Gotham City from the first, and to say that the boy was chomping at the bit to get there was like saying the Atlantic Ocean was a little bit wet._

_He had been informed as to who his biological parents were, as well as the circumstances of his adoption by the time he was twelve years old. Being a very sensible boy, with good memories of the parents he had been blessed to have, Michael had not been all that shocked._

_He'd seen the differences between himself and his adopted parents from a young age, but had kept his questions to himself, not wanting to cause any hurt feelings._

_His adopted father, Joseph O'Brien had been 6'2" tall, with brown eyes and brown hair, and his wife, Elizabeth had been 5'11" with hazel eyes and auburn hair._

_Since there was no possible way that the two of them could have produced a blue eyed, child with curly brown hair, Michael had known that something wasn't exactly kosher in the household, but had been too young to verbalize what he felt._

_When he'd been informed as to the crimes of his great-uncle, Michael had asked if there was any ritual to renounce or denounce the man in the eyes of the Church, so that they wouldn't be related anymore. _

_Unfortunately, there hadn't been anything like that available, so Michael had simply settled for disowning the man legally._

_All in all, it hadn't been too, too bad._

_The trip to Gotham had been uneventful; the flight had gone smoothly; the food aboard was actually edible and the stewardesses had been friendly toward the somewhat shy young man, making him blush furiously._

_They had landed, gone through customs, and been driven via police escorted limousine to the swankiest hotel the city had to offer; The Gotham Plaza Hotel, which was even bigger and grander than its sister hotel in New York City._

_Once they had been safely ensconced in their adjoining suites, Julius had gotten Michael's attention._

"_I know where your parents are. My agents have discovered that they are both working for the Gotham City Opera Company, and word is they are both going to be surprise vocalists on the program. My agent had a very devil of a time finding this out, so keep mum about it."_

"_What's the plan Uncle? I still think it's a bit unfair to just surprise them with me, even if it does take place backstage."_

"_Would you rather it be ON stage?" the pontiff asked, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were that theatrical, Michael."_

_Michael had flushed and glared at his uncle, "I'm not! But wouldn't it be better for me to meet them here in the hotel room?"_

"_My boy, I understand your reluctance to put yourself forward, and normally I wouldn't ask you to. However, this city has been sinfully complacent toward the crimes of its former Bishop, and the victims he left behind._

_As one of those victims, you and your parents will give faces to those who have gone home to God without anyone to speak for them. The people here MUST understand what they have permitted to happen, simply by ignoring what was in front of their faces. Think of it as another kick in the teeth toward the idiot if it helps."_

_Michael had given him a feral grin altogether too much like his father's. "Oh boy Uncle Thomas; that'd be the icing on the cake. You're on!"_

_At the exact same time, Maggie was undergoing the final fitting of her dress for the performance, making sure that no detail was overlooked. Everything about it had to be perfect; from the stitching right down to the underlining._

_The dress was a simple sheath dress in design, but there was nothing simple about it; for one thing it was made of a gorgeous shade of cranberry silk, and the bodice was beaded to a fare thee well with tiny beads in the same color._

_The cap sleeves were fitted, but not too tight, so as to permit freedom of movement for Maggie. The neckline was cut a bit lower than she would have liked, but her bosom had recovered from the deprivations of her former illness, and one of the sopranos had told her._

"_Don't be afraid to show off what God and the Virgin have given you, Margareta. Your lover likes big bosoms, yes?"_

_Maggie had blushed and shyly admitted that yes, he DID like big bosoms, but only hers._

"_Well then, as long as they are yours, what do you care if they are shown off? We are given bosoms for a reason, Margareta. To attract and KEEP men!"_

_Maggie had blushed again, giggled like a schoolgirl, and said no more about it._

_Right now, the gown was being marked for hemming while Maggie stood on a stool, looking at herself in the mirror. _

_She could hardly recognize herself; the formerly gaunt, frail, dying woman had been replaced by a robust, curvy, very much alive woman who was now in control of her life after not being in control for so long._

"_I'm scared Carla," she said to the girl who was marking the hem. "What if I wake up and this is all nothing but a dream? What if it's not real?"_

_In answer, Carla poked her gently in the ankle with a pin and Maggie squeaked in reaction._

"_Does that feel like a dream to you?" the no nonsense young woman asked her._

"_No."_

"_Okay then, stop worrying about it."_

_Maggie had decided to simply go with the flow and stop arguing._

_The night of the concert had been a big hit with everyone._

_The usual Christmas carols were sung, in languages ranging from Italian, to Irish Gaelic to American English, to Spanish and German, which had delighted many people in the audience who had flown in from other countries, simply so that they could attend._

_When Ed had been introduced, the audience had become so quiet one could have heard a pin drop from fifty feet away. _

_Without even breaking a sweat, Ed had immediately started singing "My Lagan Love" completely a canella, much to everyone's shock. _

_Caught off-guard, the orchestra maintained silence until he hit the last note and finished his piece._

_It was then that the audience burst into wild applause, making the former villain grin from ear to ear._

_Maggie's performance however had really blown the roof off of the opera house._

_She had performed "Draw Tua Bethlehem" in perfect Welsh; followed by "Non Ce Piu" in Italian; "Amazing Grace" in English; and finally, her favorite "O Holy Night"._

_Her favorite trick for that particular song was projecting to the rafters, even without the aid of a microphone. With one, everyone in the audience was stunned at the sheer power of her voice._

_The audience at home, watching the whole thing on television simply sat and stared at their screens, completely in awe._

_The big kicker had been the two of them doing a duet of "Elysium", which wasn't all hat well known of a piece outside of the UK, but from that day on would be to millions of people._

_However, the most shocking thing had happened when Ed had gone down on one knee on stage, pulled a velvet box out of the pocket of his tux, and proposed to her right then and there._

_For ten long, agonizing seconds, everyone waited with bated breath for Maggie's answer._

_At Wayne Manor, Aunt Harriet had been screaming at the TV, "SAY YES! SAY YES! FOR GOD'S SAKE, NOT ONLY THAT BUT FUCK YES!" Much to the shock of Alfred, who actually dropped a tray with a cup of tea and biscuits on it._

"_**YES!**" Maggie had all but screamed, and kissed him passionately after he placed the ring on her finger._

_Up in his reserved balcony, Pope Julius III had laughed like a loon at the sight before him. Somehow, he had known that coming to Gotham would mean something huge, and by God he had been right!_

_Standing ovations had been given to all of the performers, but especially Ed and Maggie to many cries of "ENCORE!" ENCORE!"_

_The two of them had made the entire audience laugh with their rendition of "Dominic the Christmas Donkey", "Santa Claus is Comin' To Town", "Here Comes Santa Claus", "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer", and made everyone teary eyed with "The Little Drummer Boy", "Away in a Manger", and "Christmas Shoes"._

_When everyone in the cast had finally been allowed backstage for the after performance party, Ed and Maggie had snuck off to her dressing room for a bit of a breather._

"_What a night," Maggie had said, sagging __into his arms on the sofa, and dropping her head onto his shoulder._

"_I agree; and to think it's not over yet. We have to go out to the reception hall where the others are, and put up with all sorts of well wishes, congratulations, and gratuitous advice from married people."_

"_Do you wanna?" she asked, peeking up at him._

"_After I take a nap for about a half hour," he grumbled, "I'm pooped!"_

_They hadn't gotten that half hour, for not ten minutes later; a stagehand had come a-knocking on her dressing room door, telling them that a taxi was ready to take them to the reception hall at the Gotham City Plaza Hotel._

_Ed had grumbled, groused and generally complained, but in the end had agreed to go._

_Maggie had donned a long velvet cape with a very warm fake fur lining, and a huge hood, which she had drawn over her face. Ed put on a camel wool coat and his favorite fedora, then the two had managed to escape out the back door to the taxi, away from all of the autograph hounds._

_Once at the reception hall, they had mingled amongst the elite of Gotham City, along with the other cast members, and the foreign dignitaries that had attended the performance._

_Maggie's friends in the opera had 'oohed' and 'aahed' over the diamond ring that Ed had given to her, and made cheeky remarks as to the type of Christmas present she should give him in return._

_Blushing madly at some of the more…creative suggestions, Maggie had sneakily informed them that she'd already had similar thoughts for that night, even without him proposing._

_Ed, in the meantime was rather surprised to be having a civil conversation with Bruce Wayne. He had always thought that the millionaire was a complete dope, without an intelligent thought in his head. _

_He found to his shock that the reality was far different from his original impression._

_Bruce, who projected the air of a rich airhead with no real job, was actually a very savvy businessman who left the minutiae of his dealings to his most trusted employees. However, for the really BIG deals, he was there, along with a super sharp team of lawyers that were known to be the pit bulls of their particular vocation._

_Dick Grayson was off on one side, having a conversation with a couple of cute teenaged girls, both the daughters of important businessmen; both beautiful, both well endowed physically, and both smarter than the average debutante._

_A hush had descended over the crowd when the Pope and his entourage had come into the room, simply projecting power without really seeming to._

_Introductions were made all around, and Maggie had clung to Ed's side fearfully. She'd still had issues with any figure of ecclesiastical authority; flatly refusing to set foot inside a church or go to confession._

"_Your Holiness," Mayor Linseed had said, "These two are Edward Nashton and his fiancée, Margaret O'Shaughnessy. They're the ones that brought down the roof at the performance tonight."_

_Much to Maggie's relief, Julius had smiled at them warmly and extended a hand for Ed to shake, "I am very much aware of who you two are, but not for the reasons you think. I have a surprise for you two, if you will wait but a moment."_

_He managed to get everyone's attention and while all eyes were on him, he spoke._

"_Many years ago, a great and terrible scandal took place within this city. Many young girls were robbed of their childhood; their innocence; their virginity; and their own children. All of this was done by the authority of an evil man who has since met his own fate."_

"_I speak of your former Bishop O'Shaughnessy, who went home to face God some years ago after drowning off the coast of Naples. I am here to redress the great and terrible wrong done by him, and those who worked for him"_

"_These two in especial were robbed by him. This young lady with the incredible voice was his niece; his only brother's only daughter. The man beside her was the great love of her life, and sent to a juvenile facility for the simple crime of stealing a dozen eggs and two cans of corned beef hash."_

_When the Pope had started his speech, Ed had frozen in place, his eyes hardening at the mere mention of everything that had been done. Here the two of them had been trying to put everything into the past, and now the Pope was dredging it up again!_

_Maggie had poked him in the side as the Pope continued._

"_Their own child was stolen from them and adopted by a pair of wonderful people, and I should know. They were my brother and his wife, respectively, and two finer individuals you could not find anywhere. On a trip to Italy, they were sadly killed in an automobile accident, leaving their son in my care."_

"_Due to the idiocies of the United States Government, and my own, I decided to take it upon myself to raise my brother's adopted son. _

_He is a fine young man, and a credit to both sets of parents. Michael, come here." He'd said to a young man of about sixteen years of age who was standing behind him._

"_Edward, Margaret; I present to you, your son, Michael Anthony O'Brien."_

_For long seconds, they had stared at each other in shock; the last thing Ed and Maggie had expected was to find their firstborn son, much less in the care of the current Pope!_

"_Michael? You're our son?"_

"_Yeah, according to the adoption papers I am." He'd said with a snarky grin that was an echo of his father's._

_From that day, whenever the event was spoken of, no one could say who had made the first move. One second the three were separated by a good two feet in distance, the next they were all engaged in a three way embrace, and everyone in the room was cheering madly._

_There wasn't a dry eye in the house; everyone was crying from Mayor Linseed and his wife, right down to the busboys, who were mopping their eyes with the towels on their arms._

_After finally retiring for the evening in the comfort of their apartment, Ed and Maggie had spent hours with Michael hearing about his adventures growing up in Italy._

_He in turn heard all about his father's various criminal adventures, butting heads, sometimes literally with Batman and Robin. _

_Maggie, had told them of her travels throughout the country, from Gotham City to New York, to California, to South America, and of all the friends she had made before her illness drove her to seek Ed out._

_It was four o'clock in the morning before they finally managed to get to bed, and immediately drop off to sleep._

_But the fun, as they say, hadn't stopped there. _


End file.
